Applejack Has Got It Going On
by Durriken
Summary: It's Spike's birthday and he wants to spend the day with the apple of his eye.


A/N: Shout out to Sunny Sundown for the pic that inspired this one; love that guy, love his work, and I love our mutual love for Applejack. So sit back, grab an apple, and enjoy:

**Applejack Has Got It Going On**

* * *

_Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap…._

That word ran circles in Spike's mind, tirelessly and unending. Nervous didn't even begin to describe the sporadic beating of his heart as he glanced left to right, side to side, to and fro, anywhere and everywhere in search of _her_. Because he wouldn't be able to miss her arrival, no… not her, never.

It may have been a cloudless, sunny day outside for the rest of the world but Spike's insides were raging like a snowstorm. Several times he tried to seem nonchalant, practicing different greetings and ways to chuckle at whatever she happened to say but all of it came out forced, even including when he tried to coolly lean against the square fountain and nearly fell in. If the people who saw that failed move were any indicator she would get a good laugh out of it at least….

_Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap…._

Remembering the advice of his doting, nag-tastic, would-be sister, Twilight, Spike closed his eyes and inhaled to a count of ten, then exhaled for a count of ten, repeating the cycle thrice while reassuring himself that things would be fine. What was there to really worry about? So what if he had finally turned fifteen? Big deal, people aged every year. And yeah, sure, he hadn't expected Twilight to invite _her_ to his party; it was a bit shocking, but manageable. What _wasn't _manageable was that he had nursed a fairly strong crush on Twilight's applebucking friend, a crush dating back to when he was twelve, so seeing her there, seeing that sincere happiness in celebrating his birthday…it made his heart sing and his knees knock. Her mere presence distracted him so much that when he finished blowing out the candles, and Pinkie Pie excitedly asked him, "_What's the most super terrific, extra special thing you could wish for on your birthday?_" all Spike could utter was the truth:

"_To spend the day with Applejack…."_

He would remember what happened next until his dying day. The entire party had gone uncomfortably silent, as silent and as still as his heart when it suddenly died. Everything seemed to tilt then, a ball of nausea dropping into Spike's gut as what he said replayed itself in his mind. And then he was stuttering, his speech so garbled that a babbling baby would have made more sense. Coy smiles were growing all around him, growing like the embarrassed glow in his cheeks, and before he could even begin to take it back, Rainbow Dash was already going, "_Oooooo, with Applejack, eh? Ya hear that, AJ? Someone's got the hots for your apples!"_ Her laugh sounded like the kind of screech a witch would give while she ate little kids.

"_Oooh myyy!_" Rarity had gushed, fanning herself like she were about to faint. "_What an absolutely delicious turn of events! Our little Spikey-Wikey's growing up so fast, already trying to court us girls!_"

If not for the trouble Spike was having trying to regulate his breathing, he would have corrected Rarity on her 'us girls' statement. So far as he was concerned, there was only 'one' girl and it was the golden-maned apple of his eye—the only one of the main six who didn't seem to treat his meager wish like a fresh piece of juicy gossip. That giggle of hers, more melodic than the softest sonata, it quelled his chaotic thoughts and he suddenly didn't feel like diving underneath the floorboards to rot in peace despite Rainbow's howling laughter.

"_Welp, Ah' guess iffin' the birthday boy himself wants to spend time with lil ole' me then—Rainbow! Girl, iffin' you don't button that maw y'all call a mouth, Ah swear…._"

Spike could not have felt any happier in that moment than if his next present had been that videogame he had been wanting for the past month. That Applejack was willing to spend time with him—_him_—the 'Twilight tagalong' as Rainbow often and correctly referred to him as. The disbelief was unprecedented and he distinctly remembered pinching himself so hard he broke the skin… but he wasn't dreaming! Bleeding, most definitely, but not dreaming. Applejack's lips were suddenly moving—and Celestia above, were they always so plump?—but he didn't catch a single word, even as she began pantomiming what he assumed to be their plans for the following weekend. The amount of thought on her face was both adorable and laced with far more consideration for their upcoming time together than Spike felt he deserved.

He was just some twerp in high-school, no recent achievements, no parents, no after-school activities, he mostly kept to himself and his surrogate sister Twilight. Quiet signifying nothing, that was him in a nutshell. A green-haired blank. Whereas Applejack and all her radiant glory was already primed to take over her family's thriving apple farm, consistently seemed to be the only level-headed one amongst Twilight's circle of friends, and followed a strict lifestyle of 'up with the sun, down with the sun,' which left her with a body so sinful that every look caused Spike's face to glow crimson and his shorts to tighten uncomfortably.

Having just missed Applejack's entire recounting of what they would be doing next weekend, Spike was lost when they moved on to serving the birthday cake, yet when Applejack took his slice, got a bit on her fork, and held it up to him, Spike merely stared, his brain grinding to a fierce halt. This was… that was her fork… Applejack's fork, and that was definitely a piece of his cake… _on _her fork, the same fork she was holding to his lips with a hand underneath to catch any stray crumbs. She was leaning toward him, those golden tresses flowing over her shoulder—

"_Say 'ahhh', Mr Birthday Boy_," she had said softly.

"_W-what_?" The fact that Spike had managed to get out anything past a staggered gasp was a marvel by itself.

"_Ah' figure, since y'all wanna spend the day with me, an' Twi' here says your grades're comin' along, might as well make it like a thing!_"

She seemed so excited about this that her vague indication of a 'thing', whatever the hell that was, flew right over Spike's head as he concentrated solely on her fork. That wonderful utensil had actually been in her mouth, touched those lips; it glistened with the aftermath of her tongue and his thoughts begin to drift into a—

The sudden taste of chocolate overloaded Spike's thought process when Applejack decidedly took advantage of his slack-jaw to gift him her forkful of cake. It was naturally good—it was a Pinkie Pie speciality, after all—but a part of his mind was trying to convince him that it tasted just a _bit_ sweeter than normal thanks to her coating of saliva on the fork. Which was excitingly preposterous, he knew it was, but that didn't stop the dopiest smile Spike had ever given from spreading over his face, and it only grew bigger when Applejack giggled at his expression.

"_Guess y'all really love this here cake!_" she exclaimed with something of a piqued bounce, and if Spike hadn't currently been stuck on a roller-coaster of bliss, he felt quite sure his lips would have betrayed him again because it definitely wasn't the cake he loved….

A sudden influx of gasps snatched Spike back to the present and he looked up in alarm, forgetting where he was and what he'd been doing. It all came crashing back, coolness be damned, when he saw her. And he wasn't the only one who saw her: heads were turning from everywhere, men and women alike, all of them transfixed and hypnotized by the goddess stepping regally across the square. A mane of shimmering gold glittered in the sun behind her, though it was still fixed into that signature ponytail of hers at the end. A white satin dress speckled with red delicious apples accentuated her figure; it clung more like body paint than an actual article of clothing, hugging those childrearing hips, defining her curves and filling in every crevice. The neckline was plunging, revealing a healthy amount of inviting cleavage while a slit in the front ran nearly all the way up to the matching sash tied around her waist; the fleeting glimpses of those inner thighs that came with each of her surprisingly lithe steps caused Spike to swallow with verve, his eyes continuing to trail down the alluring length of her legs and to a pair of stylish peep toe pumps.

Step after step she approached, his date for the day, his first crush, obliviously leaving a trail of broken necks in her wake, her heels clacking over the cobblestone. It seemed as if the entire area had been vacuumed of air, leaving it suspended in time, bending to the woman now less than twenty paces away from Spike, who was suddenly overcome with the strong urge to back away, to turn tail and run. There was no way on this earth that he was remotely worthy enough to even be in her line of sight. He was too small for her grace, too insignificant—what had he been thinking? Allowing her to waste her precious getting glammed up for someone like _him_? No, he couldn't do it. For both their sakes, this couldn't go on.

_I gotta run, I gotta get outta here!_

Just when his legs made a move to do just that, he heard it:

"Howdy, Spike!"

Applejack's voice, so genial and soothing, rooted Spike to the spot, leaving him even more awkwardly posed and looking like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to run or take flight.

Once it became clear who this beauty was here to see, the air was flooded with a wave of disappointed groans and several people returned to whatever was they had been doing before. If ever there was a moment where Spike simultaneously felt ten feet taller and more minuscule than a mouse, it was then. Knowing that someone so beautiful, so divine, had basically shut down every other guy's inevitable attempt in the area just to concentrate on him was a feeling he never thought he would experience in his life; while on the flip-side, being the sole attention of such a woman, especially his crush, was unnaturally terrifying. And the surly, downright murderous looks passerby were shooting him didn't help matters in the slightest.

"Well, howdy, sugarcube!" she greeted warmly, joining him at the fountain's edge.

"H…haaaa—" He could just about kick himself. "H-hey, AJ," Spike responded hoarsely, idly wondering if it was even fair for there to exist one so utterly flawless. Up close like he was, Spike quickly noticed that he only came up to her bust and had to quickly avert his eyes, letting them glide down her front to rest on the provocative choice of footwear. In true Applejack fashion, her toenails were painted a dazzling shade of dark red; it matched the red of the apples on her dress, although the color was the furthest from Spike's mind as he inwardly wondered how it would feel if she were step on him wearing those heels…?

_Or, shoot, even barefoot. I don't even have a foot fetish but geez, if she told me to suck her toes, I think I'd seriously do it….Does that make me a pervert? Or her…?_

While he was lost in a proverbial hamster ball of lecherous thought, a look of concern fell over Applejack's face, and it quickly morphed into a bit of shame. "Oh, shucks, Ah' know that look… y'all were waitin' for me t'show up, weren't ya?"

_She's so freakin' beautiful… there's no way this can happen, how could I even be that selfish? This goddess? All to myself? No. Nope. Can't happen, I feel like I'm about to hyperventilate and pass the fu—_

"A'hm sorry, sugarcube, really, Ah' was—well… it was really Winona, darn girl snatched the undies Ah' planned on wearin' today an' Ah' had tuh' chase 'er down—"

It was beyond cute, almost outrageously so, the way Applejack tried to pantomime her eventful morning, complete with expressions that shifted from surprise to shame to excited, all the while twisting and turning animatedly. And Spike watched all of that, feeling his heart swell with evermore adoration for this lovable cowgirl, and the only reason he watched was because his hearing had shorted out some time ago, around the point where she mentioned her 'undies'.

The undies she had planned to wear today… which meant careful consideration had gone into her outfit, all for his sake, all for this moment.

"—so Ah' had to go with another pair," she sighed, tilting her hips, "which was tough 'cause lemme tell ya, not many undies can handle the kinda apples Ah' got," and almost as if to emphasize her point, Applejack gave her leg the smallest of shakes, and when she did, there wasn't a force on this planet that could have kept Spike's stringent gaze from zeroing in on her rump when it started to wobble. His eyes widened comically slow, his jaw dropped a couple feet, and Applejack shook her head helplessly. "Issa lil' bit big, Ah' know, but none'a that's yer' problem, Spike, Ah' shoulda been here on time an'… sugarcube? Y'all alright…?"

The honest answer to her question was "no" but Spike couldn't speak it. He had spun around and was hunched over the fountain with one hand slapped over his face to hide the fact that his nose had begun to bleed in response her omission, a steady flow of crimson droplets that he was trying his best to keep from being seen. Even as he nodded and lifted his free hand in a reassuring wave, a few renegade drops fell from his knuckles into the water below.

Truthfully, Spike was already well used to Applejack's lack of shame when it came to discussing things that others might have felt drifted into the realm of too much information, and that was just one part of her that Spike loved, her honesty, her unabashed plain-spoken ways. To him, Applejack was the very definition of someone who was comfortable with who they were and spoke their mind without restraint, no apples given.

_But still…! Her… her undies? That's what took her so long? Oh man, oh man, what am I supposed to do with that knowledge? How do I _not_ think about it? I'm thinking about it now! What color were they? What about the fabric? Satin, maybe? Cotton? And what size exactly? She just said she has a big butt and she dang sure ain't wrong—her apples are massive! All that farm work and squatting, that's the key right there, that's how she keeps that figure, ain't it? It's gotta be! How does that explain her feet, though? You'd think all that hard-work would have her feet looking all busted up and gnarly but hers… they look so smooth and I wonder how they smell, but that's creepy, isn't it? To wonder how her feet smell? It probably is, I'm probably a creep now, but that doesn't change the fact that her toes are—_

"Now that just won't do, sugarcube," was all Spike's frayed subconscious had time to register before he felt the softest hands of his young life taking him by the cheeks and gently forcing his head up and back. So lost in his own thoughts, Spike failed to noticed that Applejack had somehow slid between him and the fountain, perched herself upon the edge, and that her thighs were on either side of him. "How'd this happen now? Y'all got a fever, Spike?"

There was so much concern in her tone that Spike felt himself blushing profusely and he immediately scrambled backwards out of her reach, partly to keep any stray droplets of blood from staining her gorgeous sundress but mostly because her mere touch had sent his lower half into overdrive in the most agonizing way possible.

"I'm… I'm f-fine, AJ," Spike sputtered, snatching out a few napkins from his pockets and jamming them up his nose. He knew he had to look utterly stupid but at this point, what did it matter? There wasn't enough dignity left within his scrawny form to meet her penetrating gaze head-on, he didn't want to see her on the verge of laughing or staring with disgust at his nose, so he stared pointedly at the ground. "Um… if—if you don't feel this anymore, a-and really, why would you, we can, uh—I'll understand if you wanna, y'know, cut it right here if… if you want…."

The words were tumbling forth without rhyme or reason, a verbal manifestation of the way Spike felt deep in his soul, and he couldn't stop it. Because it was the truth. He would rather end things here than burden her with his company for another second—

"What Ah' want, sugarcube, is for y'all to look at me."

—but the hold that Applejack unknowingly had over Spike was miles stronger than his self-defeatism and his head snapped up at the sound of her soothing voice. She was still sitting there, now in the act of crossing of her legs, and as she did, Spike's breath hitched… time seemed to slow to a crawl…

_No way…._

The barest hint of Applejack's panties were peeking at him from between her thick thighs. They were a bright apple red—because of course—adorned with lace even, and the main reason why Spike's nose gave a violent tingle, causing the tissue up his nostril to swell with this new rush of blood. He didn't even notice, nor care; his mind was being bombarded with the most lewdest thoughts of his young life, dirty fantasies that ranged from wondering what those sacred panties must smell like to wishing she would sit on his face until he couldn't breathe….

…but they were all summarily snuffed out when Applejack brought her leg down.

_Sweet Celestia on wheat bread, that was… that was…_

Even at a glimpse, Spike knew that image would stay burned into his memory until the day his heart ceased to beat.

"Saw somethin' ya' like, sugar?"

"Oh, like you wouldn't believe," Spike heaved, sighing out the tension from his shoulders and slumping slightly. "It was kinda like getting a sneak peak at heaven without actually getting there."

"Really? Hawh, c'mon now, sug', it was just a lil' gander, nothin' worth all'a that."

Shaking his head with all the patience of trying to explain that one plus one equaled two, Spike had only opened his mouth when he froze. And it wasn't just that he froze mid-word either, no… his entire being froze. He didn't blink, he didn't move, he couldn't even breathe. Every major operation of his body had faltered; his stomach took a nauseating plunge—

"Was seein' mah' undies really that amazin'?" Applejack wondered haughtily, softly kicking her aloft foot and fixing the frozen birthday boy with a knowing grin. "They're just pan~ties," she teased, stretching out the word with that nimble tongue of hers.

Spike was visibly choking where he stood. There was nothing whatsoever in his mouth or caught in his throat; it was just the way Applejack leered at him, it was her prestigious smile, the sensual flair to her tone… the way she had one of her fingers hooked into the slit up her dress and was slowly pulling on it, revealing more and more of her tanned thighs a centimeter at a time—he could just about count the freckles there—until the band of those bright red panties came into clear view. By Celestia, they hugged her so tightly, dug so deliciously into her hips that Spike himself felt enjoyably constrained simply by looking at them.

He wasn't sure how much he would be able to take and remain conscious: his heart was beating a thunderous rhythm against his ribs, the way his groin swelled and leapt to attention was both painful and staggeringly sublime, and his breathing was in fits, coming in as gasps and leaving as wheezes….

_I can't… I can't take this, I—_

There was something that Spike had never seen before glinting just behind Applejack's emerald eyes, something heated… something hungry. Her freckled cheeks were flushed with the barest hints of scarlet and she seemed to be angling herself so that her cleavage stood out more… but he couldn't be seeing right, could he? Because the Applejack he knew would never do this, she wasn't good at flirting, or… or showing herself off—the fact that she was wearing such a fancy dress had been a shock by itself but this… he couldn't even begin to hope that she was doing this for him.

"Ah' figured Ah'd treat ya' to somethin' nice on your birthday, hun," and her soothing country drawl brought him crashing back down to earth. "At first, Ah' didn't know what Ah'd get'cha," she mused, shyly tapping her bottom lip, and Spike watched in confusion as the blush from earlier grew more pronounced, "but now… Ah' think Ah' know just what y'all want…."

Whatever Applejack had in mind, Spike was sure she was wrong, mostly because he had already gotten what he wanted. To spend the day with her, and even if he passed out in the next couple of minutes, there was nothing she could add to top it… so when Applejack began to slowly spread her legs where she sat, Spike's eyes grew as large as dinner plates.

_Whoa, whoa, wait… what is she…?_

There was no hiding the furious shade of crimson that saturated Applejack's entire face now as she continued to part her legs, spreading those succulently thick thighs with an almost practiced grace. Her breathing had subsided into a series of lustful pants, each one like silk against Spike's ears, causing him to shudder as he honed in on the treasure coming into view between her legs.

_No way… no way, no way, no way—_

"S-so, Ah' was thinkin', since y'all seem to like 'em so much, Ah' figure Ah' could give ya' the panties Ah'm wearin' right now… all nice'n warm an' full'a my scent.…"

_Fuck_.

The moment Spike felt that sticky wetness in his boxers, he knew he was dangerously close to the point of no return, yet he could do nothing but watch, transfixed, as that golden-haired seductress slipped a thumb down the waistband of her panties. She winked just before giving them a teasing tug that he felt in his groin.

Just… just who was this woman before him? She looked like Applejack, certainly, and she had Applejack's mannerisms, beauty, and voluptuous figure, but this, the teasing, the flashing….

"Iffin' ya' like," she started breathlessly, basking in the way Spike's gaze hungrily roamed about between her legs, almost as if he were trying to stare her panties out of the way, "Ah' wouldn't mind if, um… if y'all wanted to taste this apple between mah' thighs, sugarcube."

"GUH!"

Spike wasn't quite sure when he lost it. Maybe it was the heady, sweet scent of her arousal winding it way through his nose, maybe it was the sight of her panties stretched against her moistening womanhood, or just maybe it was the sound of her panties snapping back against her that did the deed. Who knows… it really didn't matter anyway because when Spike began to tilt backwards, consciousness finally fading, blood leaking from both nostrils, and with the dopiest smile ever plastered over his lips, there was only one thing he could say:

"Best… birthday… ever."

_Thud_.

"SPIKE! Aw horseapples—Spike! Sugarcube, y'all okay?"

* * *

A/N: **#yearoftheoneshot**


End file.
